Robert Curt Brand

 

(Yo, Pedro. You out there, man? New song. . . working with PTSD GI's wrung it out of me. . .)

 

Bend over, boys, the fun is just beginning.
Your Uncle Sam's going to take you for a ride.
Though Robert knows we got no chance of winning,
Just saddle up without a racket,
Grab your rifle and flack jacket.
Buddy, you can run but you can't hide.

Vietnam, what a fine location.
We get to string barbed wire by the shore.
It's almost like a paid in full vacation --
Dodging rockets, getting high,
Oh, what a lovely way to die.
Our friends at home don't know us any more.

Walking down the streets of Saigon City,
Drinking beer and checking out behinds.
The butterflies in ao dias look so pretty.
They make you smile, they make you sigh,
They sell their bodies to get by,
So glad we came to win their hearts and minds.

Charlie married Barb and had a baby,
Jesse spent a few more years in school,
Peter found soft duty in the Navy,
Jimmy's up north drinking beer,
And Andy told them he was queer,
And I'm here in the jungle like a fool.

Flying on the silver bird to Oakland,
Feeling just so used up and alone.
The kinder part died up there in the highland.
You taught us how to use a gun,
No sense us having all the fun,
You know, we brought the spoils of war back home.

(c) Robert Curt Brand